


Just A Constant Headache

by attackthenoona



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternative!MarkJin, Bands, Banter, Dumb Twitter fights, Emo, M/M, Markjin, Recreational Drug Use, Self-serving discourse on music genres, Side!JackBum, Swearing, sort of slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-20 05:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14888687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attackthenoona/pseuds/attackthenoona
Summary: Park Jinyoung, sophomore literature student and emo revival enthusiast, is a genre snob who gets in an online scuffle about music preferences with the campus radio station’s resident emo skater boy, Mark Tuan. Hence, ensue hate-tweets, subtweets, and shady remarks during band nights, but their friends and bandmates are highly suspicious—maybe these binary opposite emo boys actually like each other.





	1. And You Just Wear Me Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emo!MarkJin inspired by one of my [favorite photos of them](https://twitter.com/peachfortheking/status/1005118490125090816).
> 
> Fic title is from the song ["Constant Headache"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EvIGgN-McsY) by Joyce Manor.  
> Chapter title is from ["Constant Nothing"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XCLQN3d-nb8) by Joyce Manor

   “Seriously? _This shit_ again?”

   Jaebum stops tapping the tabletop, his drumsticks frozen mid-air. He pulls one of his ear buds off and scrunches up at the newcomer. “What?”

   “They’re playing these _mall emo_ tracks again,” Jinyoung slams his tray on the table, the coffee sloshing in its mug and threatening to spray Jaebum with the hot brown liquid. “Like,” Jinyoung continues, taking a bite out of his sandwich, “who even listens to Fall Out Boy now?”

   Jaebum pulls the other ear bud off and it’s just then that he hears the familiar croon of the said band’s vocalist, singing about _doing it in the dark with smiles on their faces_. He raises his eyebrows at the younger, a silent _Really?_ being communicated through his gaze. Jinyoung can’t help it though, as he’s incredibly testy this afternoon. He hasn’t had a proper meal since his first class, and he’s already taken three classes for the day.

   As a sophomore, Wednesdays on campus usually meant a full morning for Jinyoung. His course work had just started to pile up this semester, with his adviser telling him to take more of the tedious core classes early on so he wouldn’t have a difficult time later with his major. It just so happens that a lot of his classes fell on a Wednesday morning, and he had no choice but to wake up early and shoulder through three long, boring lectures. Thankfully though, he only had these three classes for the day, and for the majority of the afternoon, he could just waste his time either at the library or sleep back at his apartment.

   But he just recently discovered that there was a quaint café near the mess hall, and he opted to spend an hour or so there having late lunch. So like clockwork, as soon as his last lecture lets out at 2:15PM, he heads directly to the student union building to get eat and meet up with Jaebum, his roommate. Jinyoung is always ravenous and impatient on Wednesdays, since he hauls himself out of their shared apartment before 10AM, right after downing a mug of coffee—and maybe some cereal or toast if he’s lucky enough to remember to go grocery shopping the weekend before. Despite this, however, he hasn’t had really bad days where he just wants to snap at people for no reason at all.

   Jinyoung himself is an impatient person, but being stretched thin over course work and getting hungry in the process doesn’t bode well, and all he wants to do is sit down in front of Jaebum and have his coffee and sandwich, and maybe talk about books and music with the other. But he can’t really enjoy much of his hour-long afternoon break time when, also like clockwork, he is barraged by aggressive guitar pick-ups and staccato drum patterns every time he sets foot into the mess hall. Because also like clockwork, the new campus DJ has opted to play only all these outdated emo and pop punk anthems. It’s only been less than a month, but Jinyoung just can’t take it anymore, especially not on this day.

   “Why do you even listen to the Uni radio?” Jaebum asks, reaching over to steal a chip from beside Jinyoung’s sandwich. “You know they only play generic stuff and what’s popular nowadays.”

   “Someone’s smart enough to play good stuff sometimes.” Jinyoung counters.

   Jaebum rolls his eyes. “Sometimes? You can listen to good stuff anytime. Why don’t you just use Spotify on your phone?” He tries to steal another chip but Jinyoung swats his hand away.

   “Eh, because—“

   “Because what?”

   “Just cause,” Jinyoung hisses, clearly having enough of this conversation. Jaebum knows Jinyoung is just being petty and making a problem out of nothing, so he just lets him be and plugs his earphones back and continues to mimic the beat in the song with his drumsticks. After a while, Jinyoung reaches over to him and pulls off both his ear buds before going on a tirade.

   “You know what,” Jinyoung starts. He looks close to breaking down, eyes wide and face contorted into panic. Jaebum thinks he’s overreacting, because for all of his roommate’s cool exterior, he’s also pretty much a drama queen.

   “I’m tired, I had a bad day, that stupid lecture on philology was boring as hell—like, I didn’t even know my prof could be even more dragging.” Jinyoung stood from his seat and moved closer to Jaebum, sitting right beside him and holding onto his tattooed arm. “All I want is to enjoy my food before I do my assignments, and listen to some good fucking music in the background, is that too much to ask?”

   Jinyoung was almost hysterical, and Jaebum would laugh at how stupid the younger looked right now. Instead he snorted, pulled his drumsticks back from Jinyoung, and reclined back on his seat.

   “Jinyoung, you’re being dumb right now.”

   The younger even had the audacity to be offended; Jaebum should be offended at this display of pettines. “Stop wasting your last few brain cells and don’t let that Spotify Premium go to waste.”

   The other does fetch his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, and Jaebum sighs in relief that Jinyoung sometimes listened to him. He was, after all, a junior and a whole year older. Sometimes he lets Jinyoung’s brattiness slide since the younger often acted mature for his age. There are times Jaebum is thankful that he still gets some form of respect around here, especially since handling the two other members in their four-piece band was already more than a handful. There was Youngjae, their bassist who was loud and liked to be a sassy shit to Jaebum, and Yugyeom, their other guitarist, the youngest in the group, who liked to be a sassier piece of shit not only to Jaebum, but most especially to Jinyoung.

   Jaebum watches Jinyoung go through his phone, expecting him to be sifting through his playlist. But the other didn’t fish his earphones from the pocket of his blue plaid shirt. Instead, he peeps Jinyoung opening Twitter and searching for something.

   “What are you doing?” Jaebum looks over the younger’s shoulder.

   “I’m gonna tweet the radio station.”

   “The fuck are you even going to tell them?”

   “This,” Jinyoung says as his thumbs began flying over the keyboard, “ _hey @UPNradio1075, Warped Tour called, they want their 2005 line-up back_."

   Just as he presses the _Send Tweet_ button, the song stops playing and on came the DJ. His voice was low and quiet, slightly nasal as if he had a cold.

_That was Just Surrender’s hit song. This next one is by one of my favorites, Taking Back Sunday. We still have some thirty odd minutes left of the slide, so don’t turn that dial. Again, this is Yien, your new resident hardcore boy, and enjoy “Timberwolves at New Jersey” on one-oh-seven-point-five, your one and only campus radio._

 

   “Resident hardcore boy,” Jinyoung mocks, looking like that one _Spongebob Squarepants_ meme with his upturned mouth and little head shake. Jaebum, on the other hand, fetches his jacket from behind him and stands up.

   “God, I’m gonna bounce ‘cuz you’re really being stupid right now.” He says as he pockets his phone and drumsticks before walking away and waving. “Later, dumbass!”

   “Hey!” Jinyoung protests. Just then, his phone vibrated with a new notification. Seeing the banner, it was from the radio station’s account. “JB, they replied!” He shouts to the older’s retreating figure, but Jaebum never heard as he continued walking out of the building.

 

&& &&& &&

 

    “…Again, this is Yien, your new resident hardcore boy,” Mark breathed over the microphone. “And enjoy ‘Timberwolves at New Jersey’ on one-oh-seven-point-five, your one and only campus radio,” he finished with a flair as the drums started to accompany the guitar strumming in the song he just hit play on.

   He turned off his microphone and rolled his swivel chair away from the soundboard. The radio booth was a small room, cramped with broadcasting equipment and a tall shelf of records and tapes, and a couple desks, so Mark wasn’t able to get very far. He faced the open laptop so he could browse through his curated playlist for today’s session, thinking if he should swap out some songs he prepared for some requests if he ever got one today. Just as he was about to check his notepad, Mark noticed the notification on the tab of their Twitter page. Thinking it might be a shout-out, a question, or even a song request, Mark hastily opened it first.

 

_hey @UPNradio1075, Warped Tour called, they want their 2005 line-up back._

 

   It was sent by a @pepi_jy, whose only Twitter display name was the peach emoji. Mark squinted at the display picture but he could only make out a grainy silhouette, clearly the image went through one of those analog camera applications.

   Now, Mark was a new DJ, so he hasn’t really gotten any hate messages from his listeners before, but he has heard of them from the other people in the studio. He even remembered that one girl who used to be a DJ too—she’s a senior now he thinks—was harassed by one of the jerks who listened to her late-night advice show. Seeing the message, Mark didn’t really know if it _counted_ as hate though, because it was written in such a funny, condescending way. He was tempted to reply in the same manner, leave it to Mark Tuan to be that quiet but deadly force. His bandmates, especially Jackson, got pretty scared of him quickly, when he had _this certain mood_ _and look_.

   “You don’t talk much, but when you do—man, your words cut like a goddamn knife.” Jackson once told him when they were getting high at his apartment. The mood suddenly turned magnetic and intimate, which Jackson interpreted as they should do a heart-to-heart session because they were “bros for life.” But Mark could also get pretty physical if truly provoked. Their drummer, Bambam—the poor traumatized kid—would always flinch whenever Mark had a flat, electronic gadget in his hand.

   Instead of replying sassily though, and because he had to keep being polite since it’s the station’s Twitter account he’d be using, Mark types instead, _Warped Tour 2005 had a great line-up_ , and even finished it with a winking emoji. Satisfied, he went to his list and rolled back over to the dashboard. After slating a couple more songs, he leaned back in his chair. At the corner of his eye, he saw a _(1)_ on top of their open Twitter tab, signaling yet another notification. So Mark places his foot on the edge of the desk and pushed himself over, exerting just enough force to reach the other end.

   “Bitch, really?” Mark exclaims as he trained his eyes over the new reply. It was a good thing the booth was enveloped in the heavy bass of the song currently slated in his playlist and that the microphone was off so nobody could hear his outburst. He read the reply a couple more times before he decided to fish his own phone out of his pocket.

   “Listen here, you know-it-all,” he murmurs as he opens his own Twitter app and locates the radio’s account so he could read the reply once more. Mark had no plans on being nice now that he could just answer it through his personal account. He quotes @pepi_jy’s reply and wrote, “Nobody listens to Fall Out Boy anymore?” He said loudly while typing. “Is that how bitter fans of washed up emo bands of the 90s view success now?”

   Mark knows a music snob when he sees one. It always happened with him and his friends, whether it was in his face or on comments online. It was basically a pissing contest with the many fans in the alternative scene, and usually him and his genre preferences were always on the chopping block, always made fun of by older, more “experienced” fans. He didn’t care if people didn’t jive to whatever music he liked, but being a jerk about it was something else, and he’s always ready to fight off those jerks.

   Mark’s phone pinged with a new Twitter notification. He scowls at the reply. This @pepi_jy guy was showing signs of being that kind of jerk, and Mark’s not backing down from this, admittedly petty, fight.

 

&& &&& &&

 

   Abandoning his late lunch, sandwich half-eaten and coffee gone cold, Jinyoung opts to staye glued to his phone. Once it vibrated with a new Twitter reply, he immediately opens his app and reads through the brave quips this @mtuan93 guy was throwing at him. His display name said _Mark_ with two x’s at the end— _like, who even still put x’s on their name? What a fake straightedge_ —and his picture showed a blonde boy in a tank top and a red plaid shirt riding a skateboard. _Typical_ , Jinyoung thinks, _really just your typical scene kid_.

   He assumes that this Mark person was also Yien, the DJ of the 2 to 3PM slide, and the one who’s been harassing Jinyoung’s eardrums with the juvenile playlist. For the past five minutes or so, they’ve already amassed a thread dissing each other and their music preferences. Above Jinyoung, the speakers were blasting a screamo song, something Jinyoung was unfamiliar with because he never really understood the whole idea of screaming in high pitched tones at a microphone and calling it music. The guitar riffs were greatly screechy and dissonant, the drum beat a basic one, but he could imagine the drummer playing it up by being too showy with his drumstick twirling. Jaebum could easily outplay those punks, Jinyoung surmises.

   Jinyoung just sent a quick diss reply, something along the lines of _You’re so juvenile for picking a fight—something to go along with your juvenile taste in music_ , when he feels a hand drop onto his shoulder. Looking up, he sees the little crescents of eyes and the wide smile of one of his bandmates.

   “JB said I’d find you here,” Youngjae says. “What’s up with the weird thread with Mark?”

   Jinyoung perks up at the name. “How did you know about that? You know this Mark dude?”

   “We follow each other on Twitter.” Youngjae says as if that explained everything. “We were classmates last semester. How do you know him? Did you know he has a band, too?”

   Jinyoung snorts at that. “I don’t, and let me guess, playing generic pop punk anthems and basically jumping around the stage?”

   “Why are you so mean, Jinyoung?” Youngjae scrunches his nose at him. “Don’t be a snob, Mark’s a pretty chill guy.”

   “He has bad taste in music.” Jinyoung retorts.

   His friends always pointed out that he could get catty with labels and genres. Yugyeom usually called him a know-it-all, being the one to tell them all the _correct_ history of the different genres of alternative rock. Jaebum just called him a hipster—not the handlebar mustache-growing one from Brooklyn with the suspenders and loafers, but more of the plaid-wearing, wayfarer-sporting Rivers Cuomo clone who only listens to Midwest emo and the burgeoning emo revival subgenres. Jinyoung didn’t really see anything wrong with preferring this side of the spectrum. He believes he’s only being critical of the things he consumes, especially music, since it’s the one thing he’s thoroughly passionate about aside from literature. There was creativity and raw emotion in the genre he liked, something that he wanted to translate in this musical project with his bandmates. This thing that Mark liked, though? Jinyoung thinks is just commercial garbage.

   “He’s called me a grandpa and a bitter, washed up fan. He’s the mean one, Youngjae.” Jinyoung pouts, suddenly acting cute to win the other’s favor.

   Before Youngjae could reply though, Jinyoung’s phone vibrated once more. Youngjae snatches it right after Jinyoung drags open the notification.

   “At least us juveniles have all the fun in the world with our fun music,” Youngjae reads aloud. “Seeing how the music you liked has turned you into a grumpy and mean guy, then no thanks, count me out. I’ll just stick with mine, snob.

   “I’m not a grump!” Jinyoung whines and hits his head on the table. Youngjae slips the phone back on the table next to his face, but Jinyoung doesn’t make any moves to hold it and type a reply.

   “Aren’t you gonna say something back?”

   Of course Jinyoung wanted to, but for the first time, he was at a loss for words. He often had the last word in when it came to things like this, but this Mark guy was as stubborn and sassy as him, and suddenly, the fight has leaked out of Jinyoung’s system. He had this urge to slap Mark on the face for everything he’s said, but deep down, there was some truth to them. Jinyoung could see Jaebum’s smug face mouthing _I told you so_ and Yugyeom rolling his eyes and telling him he’s so petty for even arguing about trivial stuff on the internet. He knows he can get petty, _okay_ , but Jinyoung believes he’s often correct with his opinions on things. And as much as he hates to admit it, he’ll accept this _slight_ defeat and just move on.

 _There’s no winning with internet trolls after all_ , Jinyoung tells himself so he could at least feel better. Jinyoung sighs and finally raises his head. He looks at Youngjae and asks him, “can we practice today? I think I need to relieve some stress.”

   “Fighting with Mark was stressful?” Youngjae asks.

   Jinyoung rolls his eyes and says, “don’t even say that name, ugh—fine, it was dumb” before proceeding to slam his head back onto the table. He sees Mark’s tiny face peering through his display picture, and Jinyoung thinks, _the fight may be done, but the war isn’t over just yet_.

   The last thing Jinyoung wishes is not to run into the jerk. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he does. _Thank goodness the campus is pretty big and crowded, right?_    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There wasn't enough feisty alternative!MarkJin so I just had to write one. I also never got to grow up from emo, so I'm projecting this onto them. So basically this is a self-serving, self-gratifying fic of sorts. I'm not even sure if anyone would like to read this. But, oh well.
> 
> Songs mentioned in this chapter:  
> ["The Take Over, The Break's Over"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aVbPvf2aYH4) by Fall Out Boy  
> ["Tell Me Everything"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YwStBkaiaUQ) by Just Surrender  
> ["Timberwolves at New Jersey"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_PBy3Lwi4Lo) by Taking Back Sunday
> 
> Please scream at me (or discuss our favorite emo bands) over at @peachfortheking on Twitter.


	2. Find A Way Up Into Your Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A [visual representation of Mark and Jinyoung in this fic](https://twitter.com/peachfortheking/status/1006507059381059589).
> 
> Chapter title is from ["Dizzy on the Comedown"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q34dZ6VmI04) by Turnover

_Calling last weekend’s Turnover show a mosh pit? I digress because y’all young rowdy scene kids who only knew one song and kept pushing didn’t deserve a freaking pit._

   Jinyoung silently seethes in his seat as he flashes back to last Saturday’s events. Currently, he was at the library, looking for books for a paper he’s supposed to submit next week. It was a Wednesday again, and he should have been in one of his lectures, but the professor’s assistant came into the lecture hall to announce that the class was cancelled. But Instead of focusing on the page in front of him and using his free time wisely, Jinyoung opted to reminisce.

   A local concert organizer just brought one of the more popular rock bands to the city, and he didn’t dare miss the opportunity. They weren’t as big as other bands, but Jinyoung rolls his eyes at that kind of popularity and commercial success anyway. The show was small—intimate—as it was held at a rather small auditorium downtown. There were probably around five hundred people who went there, still pretty big for an independent artist. The atmosphere was electric, warm, and cozy as he went there with Jaebum and Yugyeom, and saw other guys he knew from past gigs or met through the local alternative rock scene.

   Everything was going well, and they were all having fun. The middle of the crowd parted to make a small circle for those who wanted to mosh and two-step when the songs went hard enough to allow them to. Jaebum was a tireless force as he bound from corner to corner of the space, bumping shoulders with other concertgoers. Yugyeom and Jinyoung were more subdued, only partaking in the mosh pit once in a while; Yugyeom, even the more stoic of the two and as the towering teenager that he was, opted to stay in the sidelines, bobbing his head to the beat and watching in rapt fascination at how the band’s guitarist stepped on his effects pedals.

 _Everything was going well_ , Jinyoung thought back, _until those dumb kids showed up_. By the second half of the concert, the band started picking up the energy and sang one of their fan favorites, and then out of nowhere, a bunch of teenagers pushed through to the front, right where Jinyoung and Yugyeom were standing and started pulling and pushing at the other people there. The auditorium wasn’t a big one, and with five hundred people—mostly bulky, bearded guys in plaid shirts and steel-toed boots or hard-soled Doc Martens—cramped into such a space, something bad was bound to happen. Everyone was singing along, jumping and bumping with each other, but the group of teenagers took it a notch higher. One _screamed_ the lyrics right into Jinyoung’s left ear, and another one to his right kept pushing at his shoulders. Like dominoes, one person from their right fell to the ground, and all Jinyoung could remember was someone’s leg getting caught in the back of his knee, bringing him down as well.

   Sure, accidents happen at shows, but Jinyoung’s never been to one where he got physically hurt. Usually people from their scene were respectful—no one kicked, no one pushed; if somebody didn’t want to be part of the pit, they just retreated to the sides of the rooms and no one pulled them back in. But those _scene kids_ , Jinyoung remembers them looking so out of place with their brightly colored hair and fake knowledge of the songs and lyrics. Jinyoung cringes at the memory. He could have hit one of them if only Jaebum didn’t drag him off the floor just before he could get up and throw in a punch.

    “Dumb fake ass kids!” Jinyoung had shouted at the group’s direction. A tall kid in an All-Time Low muscle tee yelled a “fuck you grandpa!” back and Jinyoung almost came after him if it weren’t for Jaebum and Yugyeom tugging him back by the hem of his chambray button-down.

    “It’s not worth it, Jinyoung,” Jaebum hissed at him and that immediately reigned the younger in. He turned to Yugyeom and asked if he was fine to which the youngest said yes and showed that he didn’t have any cuts or bruises. Then Yugyeom took his phone out of the front pocket of his black skinny jeans and showed the cracks on the corner of the screen. _It wasn’t a big deal_ , Jinyoung remembered Yugyeom saying, pretty unshaken as he just shrugged his shoulders and went to stand nearer to the wall and away from the crowd. It was still a pretty great show all in all, Jinyoung thinks. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t salty about what transpired.

   He was shaken from his reverie when his phone vibrated with a new direct message from Youngjae. _You guys are weird_ , the message read, and attached to it was a screenshot of Youngjae’s feed containing Jinyoung’s latest tweet. Above that one was of Mark’s, the time stamp less than a minute from his own:

 

_You know what we’re NOT gonna do? Police other people’s ways of enjoying a concert. The Pit is for everyone._

 

   At this point, Jinyoung is unsurprised at Youngjae’s message. Him and Mark have been trying to up one another on Twitter the past week, and Youngjae has been in the middle of the crossfire as he could see both their shady posts one after the other. The first time the subtweeting war happened was on Thursday, a day after their first online scuffle. Jinyoung felt the urge to go through the other’s profile just to see if Mark continued to say nasty things about him, so he did just that. And Jinyoung was right when he saw one tweet that he _assumed_ was for him.

    “Why can’t people just mind their own business?” Jinyoung read out loud as he got up from his bed. His only class was at 1PM so he could afford to lay in bed until the late morning. “Everyone has different preferences, nobody needs to drag others just to make them feel good about themselves,” he finished. Underneath it were a number of replies agreeing with the sentiment.

   Jinyoung rolled his eyes. He went back to his Twitter feed and typed in a new status: “If you have disgusting preferences, prepare to be dragged though?” After a couple of minutes, he got a message from Youngjae asking if the tweet was meant for Mark. Jinyoung was tempted to deny it, but he couldn’t lie to Youngjae, so he replied with a _yes_ and got a row of faces with rolling eyes emojis as a reply instead. However, Jinyoung _did_ deny stalking Mark’s account when Youngjae asked him personally later that day. He knew the younger knew it was a lie, but Jinyoung was embarrassed enough to be caught, let alone admit it. He only came to be less embarrassed when he realized Mark was answering him in subtweets too, since that meant the other cared enough to look at his tweets. But even if his friends twisted his arm in an attempt to get the truth out of him, Jinyoung would still deny it, because he _absolutely didn’t care what the other thought, right_?

       

&& &&& &&

    “Oh, shit!”

   The front wheels of Mark’s skateboard caught on a groove in the pavement and he almost hurtled forward, but was able to maintain his balance just in time. In that moment of panic, however, he lost grip of his phone and it went skidding through the pavement, landing just a couple of inches away from the grass. He kicked the rear end of his deck and caught the board in his hand before running to retrieve his phone.

   Bambam, skating right behind him, rolled to a halt. “You okay, man?”

   Having picked up the phone, Mark checked for scratches, relieved to see that only the back of the case took the brunt of it. He immediately opened it and read the tweet again, not hearing what Bambam just asked.

 

_What we’re not gonna do is dish out opinions when we don’t even know what happened_

   On the verge of coming up with a new indirect retort, Mark suddenly changed his mind and instead opened Jinyoung’s—he only found out his first name when Youngjae, a classmate from before, asked if he was sending the cryptic angsty tweets to his friend—profile and hit reply. “Then please enlighten,” he breathed out. 

   When he turned around, Mark saw Bambam’s face right next to his as the younger Thai teenager peered at the screen over his shoulder. “Are you still hate-tweeting that guy?”

   “You just saw me reply to him, duh,” Mark said, eyeing Bambam condescendingly. He opened his app again and typed, _so when will @doubleB stop being so dumb_ , which earned him a “hey!” and a punch to his left shoulder blade.

   Bambam took his own phone out of his messenger bag and replied to Mark’s tweet then and there. “You’ve been at it for, like, a week now though?” He continued as he put the gadget back into his bag. “You’ve really resorted to stalking and subtweeting each other, huh.”

   “I don’t stalk him.”

   “Uh huh.” Bambam got on his skateboard and kicked away before Mark could swat him on the arm. The both of them rode their boards until they reached the Communications building. Bambam said a quick goodbye as he ran off to his Language class down the hall. Mark climbed the staircase to the left, taking two steps at a time, before making a turn to the studio where he worked as an apprentice DJ. His friends thought it was ironic for Mark to even apply for the position, given he rarely spoke. But he liked music so much, and his weekly hour-long program didn’t exactly force him to talk over the microphone a lot, just a few blurbs here and there after a set of songs. The only times he talked the longest on his program was when he read requests and messages that listeners sent in. _At least I don’t have to talk in front of people_ , Mark often reasoned out.

   He passed by the huge window where the booth was and waved at Brian and Somi, the two student disc jockeys who went on-air right before his 2PM slot. Entering the lobby, he greeted another one of the student DJs who gave him a sheaf of papers containing spiels for his show, something he worked on the other day, and sat down on the bench by the booth door. He still had five minutes before he takes over so Mark goes through the papers. Overhead, the speakers softly boomed with Brian and Somi’s parting words:

 

_Yien just came through the door, and he’ll be taking care of you for the next hour. Watch out for some of his exciting announcements later on his show. This has been YoungK—_

_And Ennik—_

_Let’s meet again on Friday, here on 107.5. Our final song for the hour, Ennik, do the honors?_

_Here’s “Violet” by Hippo Campus on 107.5, your UPN radio. Bye folks!_

 

   A clean guitar riff came on the speakers just as the _On-Air_ light above the booth door went off. Seconds later, Brian and Somi came out, a cue for Mark to get up and enter the small soundproof room. They exchanged short pleasantries before Mark hurried inside to take his seat on the swivel chair and put on the headphones. The song was on its last part already, the vocal track echoing over the alternating guitar and drum beats, so he was ready to turn on the mic and start his program. Mark checked his phone one last time for any new notifications, but when he found none, he placed it in silent mode and pocketed it. He then cleared his throat, turned the _On-Air_ light back on, and clutched the papers in his hand.

   “Taking over YoungK and Ennik’s _Siesta Show_ , this is your resident hardcore boy Yien,” Mark said smoothly, making his voice go lower and huskier than usual. “That last song was from Minnesota band Hippo Campus called “Violet,” he read the song description from the monitor in front of him. “We’ll be taking a deeper turn into hard-hitting rock songs in the next hour, so if you liked that last one, well I’m sorry to disappoint, I guess.” Mark laughed into the microphone, the high-pitched tinkle betraying the lower register of his speaking voice.

   Without missing a beat, he went through the next lines in his notes. It seemed like today was one of his wordier programs. “It’s only a Wednesday today, but we’ve got some Thursday in the setlist for all of you who miss Geoff Rickly’s screaming. We’ll also put in some My Chemical Romance, since we got so many requests over at Twitter for them.” Mark went over the list of songs ready to be played, before reading the next lines in his opening spiel. “But before we get to some music, YoungK mentioned dishing out some sick news for you folks. So listen up, especially to the hipsters at the Arts Institute. This one’s pretty exciting for you…”

 

&& &&& &&

       

   Jinyoung just got out of the library and was on his way to meet Jaebum for lunch. He could have gone there once his lecture got cancelled, but opted to stick to his usual schedule. Pushing open the door, he was greeted by that familiar low-pitched drawl he’s heard every Wednesday in the past month.

 

_…especially to the hipsters at the Arts Institute. This one’s pretty exciting for you! There’ll be the mid-semester inter-department mixer coming your way next week. Now I know, I know, it’s a usual thing so why’s that exciting? Two words: booze and bands. Okay, maybe people too, so that’s three words. It is a mixer after all._

 

   It was easy to spot Jaebum seated towards the back of the mess hall, since he was the only broody looking one amongst the bunch of college kids in happy-colored shirts. Jaebum had his black beanie today, his _stylish_ mullet tucked underneath the knitted folds. He wore a black oversized hoodie and his usual scowl that apparently people found attractive. Jinyoung’s heard all the permutations of _mysterious and broody_ thrown at Jaebum. Once, during a performance at a local pub, a girl in the crowd even yelled “drummer daddy!” at them because apparently, a sweaty, stone-faced Jaebum was hot. Jinyoung rolls his eyes at that memory because he knew how much of a dumb softie his bandmate is.

   “Whatchu wanna eat?” Jaebum took his ear buds off. He already had a plate of lasagna and a coke in front of him. Jinyoung was about to respond, saying he’ll just get the usual coffee and sandwich, when he heard something pique his interest.

 

_…that’s right, this year’s mixer is kind of a big one. The Institute’s student org is throwing all their coins it seems as they’re bringing a slew of artists including Fazerdaze and emo veterans Rainer Maria, with a live DJ set by…_

   “They’re bringing Rainer Maria?” Jinyoung, wide-eyed, gripped Jaebum’s arm in excitement. The same shock and fascination was painted on Jaebum’s handsome face, his mouth turning into a huge grin.

   “And Fazerdaze? My dream pop babe? Finally, this school is cool!” Jaebum delights. And he and Jinyoung could not stop talking about it over their lunches for the next fifteen minutes, counting their favorite songs and asking if this tour comeback means they’ll get a new album from the old band. The speakers blast a five-song set after the announcement, and the DJ’s choices don’t annoy Jinyoung as much because he’s just too excited, wishing the mixer would come sooner. Him and Jaebum have attended the past mixers before, since they’re both part of the institute—Jinyoung from Arts and Letters and Jaebum from the Film Department. They were boring events, the usual trap and noisy EDM DJ sets and pop artists being brought in as entertainment. If it weren’t for the variety of booze and the prospect of meeting like-minded individuals, they would have stayed in their apartment instead. But this year, it seemed like the mixer was going to be as diverse and inclusive, what with Yien— _Mark_ —read off his list of artists of varying genres.

 _That was “The Ghost of You” by MCR for all of you who requested._ Yien— _Mark_ —came back on-air. _Someone just sent a tweet saying he wanted “Welcome to the Black Parade” but I’m sorry man, I don’t have my tailored band jacket with me right now so I can’t possibly bang out properly to that. Maybe next time_.

   Jinyoung rolls his eyes at the comment, and Jaebum in turn, rolls his eyes at his friend.

   “He’s really full of himself.”

   “Let it go, Jinyoung.”

 

_Speaking of banging out, just a reminder for shows though: people are allowed to have fun however they want. So here’s a special shout out to that one jerk who keeps hating on other people’s fun: you don’t own concerts and mosh pits, so stop being bitter of people who want to enjoy themselves._

 

   Jaebum laughs his open-mouthed laugh he reserved for things he found stupidly funny, like surreal and dank memes on the Internet, and apparently, Jinyoung’s misery. “Hey, that’s you!” Jaebum even had the gall to point right in front of Jinyoung’s face.

   “Shut up!” The younger hits Jaebum on his bicep. “I can’t believe this,” he seeths. Fishing out his phone from the pocket of his jeans, Jinyoung was adamant to give Mark a piece of his mind. Upon connecting to the building’s wifi though, that was the only time he saw Mark’s reply to his earlier tweet.

 

_The please enlighten_

 

   Furious, Jinyoung typed in a reply. “Well, this jerk who hates on other’s fun isn’t responsible in explaining things to you, jerk.” He finished with a flourish and Jaebum could just look at him and hold his laughter back in for fear of being hit again. Jinyoung had the arms of a sailor underneath all those layers of long-sleeved shirts, so he was right to fear for his well-being.

   Not a minute after a new song started playing on the speaker, Jinyoung received a new notification from Mark.

 

_U rly assumed the s/o was for u? Well, if the shoe fits I guess. Jerk._

 

   It was a good thing the radio station was in a building five minutes away from them. Judging from the fire in Jinyoung’s eyes and how he immediately tensed up, he was about to go and find Mark so he could land a punch in the guy’s face. Jaebum acts as a calming force, much like what he did last Saturday, before Jinyoung could do something he’ll definitely regret. _All this because of some dumb things said on Twitter_ , Jaebum thinks.

   Thanks to the hand patting him on the back, Jinyoung slumps back into his chair. He is pacified enough to just reach for his phone in order to post a new indirect:

       

_It’ll probs be so satisfying to punch your dumb face if I ever get to see you around._

   And not a minute goes by before another indirect is composed, this time a cocky reply to that threat.

 

_Bring it on, gramps._

&& &&& &&

 

   There’s not much that could bring Jinyoung’s spirit down in the next week, not even a certain cocky emo boy who’s still in an indirect war with him on Twitter. It’s already a Tuesday, and that means it’s the day of the mixer funded by his home college and the departments under it. Jinyoung has done all the work—he’s finished the reading assignments and is well on his way to completing a paper due this week—so he could just chill, drink a couple of beers, and listen to one of his favorite bands live.

   He’s currently pushed against the leftmost wall of the hall rented by the student organization just for this event, and he could see the throngs of students milling about, drinks in hand. A DJ set just finished so most of the crowd separated into smaller groups, some getting more drinks, while others remained in the middle of the dance floor jiving to the pop song currently spilling out of the speakers. Youngjae is by his side, nursing his own beer bottle, while Yugyeom and Jaebum have gone back to the drink table, clearly on a mission to get shit-faced tonight.

   “So,” Youngjae begins. “Do you think you’re gonna see Mark tonight?”

   Jinyoung is taken aback by the question. It clearly came out of left field, because they haven’t talked about it at all upon coming here, so he voices out his confusion, “Why would I even think about that?”

   “Well, Mark’s an Architecture major, so he’s invited to this,” Youngjae explains. “That means,” he pauses and waves vaguely with his hand, “you’re bound to mingle, to mix since _this is_ a mixer.”

   “I might punch him in the face when I see him.”

   “You wouldn’t wanna punch a fellow Rainer Maria fan, would you?” Youngjae wiggles his eyebrows.

   This stops Jinyoung. “He’s a what?”

   “Nothing!” Youngjae yells and pushes off the wall and walks towards the crowd. “I’m gonna go look for Yugyeom and JB!”

   Jinyoung hasn’t bothered to open his Twitter the whole day, so when he fetches his phone, it’s the first thing he does. He has a few notifications, just some likes from his friends and a retweet, but none from Mark. They haven’t directly replied to each other since last week and have only resorted to indirectly posting about the other. So he taps on the search bar and winces as Mark’s profile is the top suggested result, but he clicks it anyway.

   The first thing that shows up is a picture posted five minutes ago. It’s of Mark standing in the middle of a crowd, a red cup in his left hand, and the right posed into a peace sign. Behind him is an empty stage that Jinyoung can make out is the same stage where a group of roadies is setting up in front of him, illuminated by the same red and blue lights. _Waiting for one of my fave bands_ , the caption said. Jinyoung clicks on the picture and zooms in on Mark’s face. For two weeks of their childish banter, this is the first time Jinyoung’s actually seen what the other looks like. His hair is parted in the middle, unlike the display picture which only showed his blonde sideswept bangs covering a good portion of his face. The dim lights of the hall’s dance floor shines on one side of Mark’s face, making him and the huge toothy grin on his face all the more blindingly radiant. Mark’s wearing a white shirt underneath an oversized denim hoodie, but Jinyoung could make out the thin frame underneath that and thinks that if they ever got into a fight, Jinyoung could probably easily overpower him. He doesn’t realize he’s been staring at the photo for a while now and only snaps out of it when he hears his name being called.

   “Jinyoung! Hey, Jinyoung!”

   Surprised, Jinyoung hurriedly locks his phone and pockets it before looking for the person calling him. He sees Yugyeom jogging to his direction.

   “Where’s Jaebum?”

   Yugyeom stops in front of him and puts a hand around his wrist. “Yeah,” Yugyeom trains his eyes to the ground, “about that...,” he trails off before tugging at Jinyoung to come with him.

   “What is it?” Jinyoung is starting to panic. Sensing this, Yugyeom looks at the older and reassures him.

   “Dude, he’s not in trouble. But he’s also had a lot to drink.”

   “But it’s only 8PM?”

   “Yep, but you know how JB drinks too much.” Yugyeom explains vaguely, because Jinyoung immediately gets it. Jaebum not only a heavy drinker, but he also gets drunk way too fast, and he’s witnessed a lot of embarrassing moments involving his drunk bandmate. He’s not excited to haul Jaebum back to their apartment. He was here to have fun, _damn it_ , not babysit.

   Thinking that Yugyeom wasn’t done with his explanation, Jinyoung prods, “What’s he done now?”

   “Well…” Yugyeom trails off as they bump into a skinny teenager in a floral shirt that’s tucked into his black pants. He looked panicked so Yugyeom lets go of Jinyoung’s arm to let him pass, hearing him yell “Hey man, Jackson’s whoring himself out again!” at a boy with blonde hair in a hoodie behind them.

   Jinyoung doesn’t get to prod the younger any further as he sees before him the very reason why he was dragged from one side of the hall to the other. Because there, on one of the couches set behind the drinks table was Jaebum sucking face with a brown-haired guy in a black tank top, who looks _very comfortable_ straddling the other’s lap.  If they asked Jinyoung, it looked more than making out, as one of mystery guy’s toned arms is tucked between him and his bandmate, looking as if it were tugging _at something_.

   Jinyoung doesn’t want to find out what exactly is happening, so he snaps out of his initial shock, looks around at the few people who are side-eyeing the couple and to Youngjae, who’s just standing near them, shrugging, powerless to do anything. Now, Jinyoung doesn’t mind if Jaebum got freaky with this dude—just not out in public. And as if on cue, the stranger on Jaebum’s lap detaches his lips from the other’s and reaches for the hem of his tank top, yanking it up and over his head in one swift motion. Jaebum’s hands immediately grip the stranger’s sides and that’s when Jinyoung decides to step in.

   He extends his arm and locks it between the couple’s torsos, immediately halting mystery guy’s attempt to dive back into making out. “Okay, buddy. That’s enough.”

   “Who are you?” Mystery guy asks. His eyes are wide and pleading, and Jinyoung is reminded of a puppy.

   “I’m Jinyoung and you’re about to have sex in public with my friend Jaebum right here.” Jinyoung says, lightly pushing the stranger off said friend’s lap while simultaneously pulling Jaebum off the couch.

   “Jinyoung?” The stranger asks, his face contorted into an expression the other could only assume is of confusion. “Do I know you from somewhere?” The stranger finally asks.

   Jinyoung thinks for a second before he hands the staggering fool to Yugyeom and Youngjae. “Nope, don’t think so,” he replies. “Anyway, time to go. Goodbye--?”

   “Oh, Jackson!” The stranger says and reaches his hand for a handshake, but Jinyoung’s already walking away, Jaebum proving to be difficult in his friends’ grip, so he just waves instead before taking Youngjae’s place in cradling the drunkard out the hall.

   “Bye Jaebum, call me!” Jackson yells at the same time a chorus of “Jackson!” echoes and makes Jinyoung look back one last time. As he turns to the exit, all Jinyoung could see past Jaebum’s broad shoulders are two boys—the same skinny guy in the floral shirt who bumped into him and Yugyeom, wrestling Jackson back into his clothes, and another skinny guy in a light denim hoodie with a mop of familiar blonde hair looking in their direction. It’s only when he’s safely thrown Jaebum into his bed and thanks Youngjae and Yugyeom for their help, that he realizes he just locked eyes with Mark. Somehow, Jinyoung doesn’t get the urge to punch him as he doesn’t feel as angry as before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a filler chapter, woops. Slow and steady, but I hope this builds up the AU setting, especially for those who aren't familiar with the scene.
> 
> Songs mentioned or hinted at in this chapter:  
> ["Understanding in a Car Crash"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8-cepZ6K7mY) by Thursday  
> ["The Ghost of You"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCUpvTMis-Y) by My Chemical Romance  
> ["Welcome to the Black Parade"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RRKJiM9Njr8) by My Chemical Romance  
> ["Artificial Light"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E54Qu9qrZa8) by Rainer Maria  
> ["Lucky Girl"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=My4j3vgFxbE) by Fazerdaze
> 
> (A visual representation of [Mark in a tailored band jacket](https://twitter.com/peachfortheking/status/1006190632707153920))


	3. In Your New Leather Jacket, You're Somebody Else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from ["Leather Jacket"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eiglIHTfX84) by Joyce Manor

   It was the sunlight that nudged Jackson into wakefulness. When he came to, he realized that his blinds were drawn wide open, something he never did because he liked sleeping in on most days. It’s a reason why he chose afternoon classes—that and because getting inebriated the night before meant waking late the next day.

   “Welcome back, hoe.” Mark’s voice rang through the tiny dorm room. Jackson saw the blonde sitting on Bambam’s bed, scrolling through his phone. He had on matching black pants and a black hoodie, his hair wet-looking, as if he just got out of the shower. His eyes were lined with kohl. Mark looked well-put together despite having partied the night before, but that’s when Jackson remembered he was the _only one_ who had too much to drink. He also remembered being dragged away from a good-looking stranger before promptly getting pulled back into his and Bambam’s room.

   Mark looked up at Jackson briefly before pointing to a paper bag on the desk. “I bought you breakfast, but you were still pretty much dead when I got here. I think the coffee’s gone cold by now.”

   Jackson reached behind the bag to find the beverage and immediately took a sip. It wasn’t completely cold yet, but he wasn’t going to complain. Inside the bag, there were two bagels and a packet of cream cheese. He took a big bite out of one and proceeded to bound over to the other bed. Jackson plopped down onto the other’s legs, successfully trapping him in an embrace. “This is why I love you! Thank you, Mark!” The brown-haired student managed through his mouthful of bread.

   Mark tried to squirm out of Jackson’s embrace, but eventually stopped struggling as the other trapped him between his thick thighs and powerful arms. “I should actually be starving you, dumbass,” Mark reprimanded instead.

   Jackson looked up at him, having the gall to appear offended. “Why would you even say that? What did I do?”

   Mark flicked the other on the forehead. “Thanks to you—“

   “Ouch!”

   “—we didn’t get to see any of the bands last night.”

   And then Jackson wracked his brain for all the details of the mixer from last night. He remembered a disgruntled Mark and an out-of-breath Bambam on either side of him trudging up the dorm stairwell, hauling his heavy body up while complaining about Jackson _whoring himself out again_. Noticing that his friend had a blank face on—Jackson’s _thinking_ face—Mark prodded the other with his phone. “Remember what you did now, dummy?”

   “Yeah,” Jackson started. “That guy was so hot.” He had a dreamy look in his eyes, clearly recalling to memory the guy he made out with last night. They were both getting drunk really fast by the drinks table, and Jackson could clearly remember running his arm up the guy’s forearm, feeling the tattoo lines before he was dragged to the couch. “God, I would have climbed him like a tree.”

   “Huh,” Mark scoffed. “Bambam said you actually did that.”

   “I was _about to_ ,” Jackson corrected, “but then his friend pulled me away.” Jackson bit his lip at the memory, clearly still feeling the strong thighs he straddled the night before. “I wonder what his dick tastes like,” he said offhandedly, and Mark deemed that the perfect cue for Mark to disentangle himself from the other.

   “Okay, that is disgusting.” Mark said, throwing his phone onto the bed before getting up and fetching his bag. He placed it at the end of the mattress before bending down to look for his sneakers. “You should be hungover!”

   Jackson plopped on his stomach and snatched Mark’s phone without the other knowing. He scrolled through Mark’s Twitter timeline. “What, don’t tell me you never thought about you-know-who’s dick before?”

   “Who?”

   “That guy you’ve been hate-tweeting the past how-many-weeks?” Jackson inquired. He switched to the camera on Mark’s phone and inspected himself as he rolled over to his back. After leaving a couple photos of his scruffy face, he opened Mark’s Twitter profile and read some of his earlier passive-aggressive posts vaguely directed at his supposed arch nemesis.

 

_“LOL these bands aren’t emo” uh, since when did you become the emo gatekeeper?_

_Where does one even get the idea that anyone who listens to third wave emo looks like a scene kid at the mall and only listens to Panic! At the Disco?_

_We get it, you listen to math rock AKA you think you’re better than everyone_

_You look like the kind of person to say “Never Meant” is American Football’s best song_

_We have so much in common than—_

   Mark snatched his phone from his bandmate’s loose grip as soon as he got his shoes on. “That’s enough.” He already knew it was stupid to have kept up this back-and-forth of indirect tweets with Jinyoung, but he still shudders at how cringeworthy and pathetic he sounded hearing his own posts out loud.

   “I mean, you two are pretty intense on each other. Sounds like sexual tension to me!”

   “With Jinyoung? _Eww_ , why would I even think that?” Mark stood up and picked up his bag.

   “Jinyoung?” Jackson repeated. He stared blankly at the other, which to Mark, it looked like he was wracking his brain for _something_. After what seemed like an eternity, and Jackson didn’t seem like following up on what he was previously saying, Mark decided to not wait for a response and headed for the door instead. He had a class at 11:30AM, and he didn’t have his skateboard with him today, so the walk back to the Architecture building would take him a good ten minutes. So Mark said his goodbye to the other and reminded him to take a shower and not miss his afternoon classes, to which Jackson replied with a salute.

   “By the way, Bambam asked if we’re still on for tonight,” Mark said before he closed the door to Jackson and Bambam’s room.

   “Practice at the studio?”

   “Yep! We’re lined up for a show, did you forget?”

   “I didn’t!” Jackson protested from the bed. “I’ll just meet you at the 7-11 at 5PM later!” He finally said and Mark nodded before closing the door in a rush. Jackson was still spread-eagled on Bambam’s bed, staring at the ceiling, when a thought struck him and he bolted upright.

   “Ooh! Jinyoung is Jaebum’s friend!”

 

&& &&& &&

 

_Is Jackson your friend?_

 

   Jinyoung’s been glued to his phone ever since his class started. The professor in front just drawls about the historical motivation behind existential novels, something Jinyoung can’t understand because he’s not focusing. It’s a good thing it was a large lecture class, and his professor won’t pick him out of sixty other students for not paying attention. Usually, he’d be glued to his notebook, jotting down valuable points mentioned, but right now, he’s currently preoccupied with his indecisiveness to send that one question.

   When he woke up that morning, he thought Mark’s face would vanish from his mind. But even Jaebum’s vomiting at three o’ clock or his incessant snoring when Jinyoung was getting ready for his 10AM class didn’t drown out his thoughts of a certain blonde boy. Jinyoung was _so close_ to finally meeting Mark, but he’s unsure what would have transpired if they did cross paths the night before. His bandmates have been witness to his constant displeasure over the other’s stubbornness, and while everybody knew Jinyoung wasn’t someone to engage in physical confrontations, he did have moments where he would just snap. And yet, Jinyoung proved last night that there weren’t any hateful feelings towards Mark—and that worried him for a reason he’s yet to uncover.

   The simple question remains unsent, the blinking blue text cursor taunting Jinyoung’s indecisiveness. Directly messaging each other means stepping over the line he and Mark drew between them. It opens a new dynamic, meaning there’s pointed intention in their messages now because they’ll be forced to respond to one another directly, and not just leave cryptic, indirect tweets that can be interpreted a number of ways. And whatever this was that they had going on could change drastically.

   Jinyoung bites his lip. Maybe he’s just overthinking and nothing’s really—supposedly—going to change. There was no point in sustaining a conversation after all, since he never wanted to establish anything with Mark in the first place; not a friendship, and definitely not this weird online war they had going. _It was all happenstance_ , Jinyoung reflects, and there shouldn’t even be anything serious about it, but somehow Jinyoung still hesitates, and worry plagues his mind nonetheless.

_Is Jackson your friend?_

 

   He looks at the message again before he taps the backspace button, erasing it letter by letter. He then shifts his attention to the stretch of the lecture, but finds himself at a loss with the topic. So Jinyoung opens his phone again and scrolls through Mark’s tweets instead.

 _We have so much in common than you think_ , Jinyoung reads the topmost post and lets out a scoff, before murmuring, “Maybe a common dislike for each other.”

   The next couple of posts under that were made the night before:

 

_SOMEBODY was being a hoe last night so @doubleB and I didn’t get to see any of the bands_

_The DJ set doesn’t count_

_I look skinny n weak but I just hauled a heavy drunk dummy back to his dorm so beware anyone who wanna fite_

_Dead tired, disappointed, and calling it a night_

_I wonder if you were there, I hope you had a better night_

   The last one catches Jinyoung’s interest, he bites his lip and wonders if it was actually meant for him.

   A “(1) New Tweet” appears on top of Mark’s profile and Jinyoung refreshes the page. He’s met with a selfie of the blonde, in his background the sun is on its zenith, washing Mark in its dusty glow. Mark’s bangs are long and covers most of his forehead, but Jinyoung can see the dark smudged shadows lining Mark’s eyes. The caption reads, _Ya fave boy’s look doesn’t work well with the sun._ Without much thought, Jinyoung’s taps away a reply.

 

_Who even still wears eyeliner in 2018?_

 

   “Shit,” Jinyoung belatedly realizes as he sees his comment get posted immediately. He was supposed to distance himself, not interact with Mark. Looking back to his outburst last week, he hasn’t replied directly to anything the other had posted about him—or at least he assumes they were about him. Given the contradiction between the silent treatment and the speed to which he _directly_ replied to this new post, Jinyoung was paranoid it came across as if he cared enough to what’s been happening to the other. Mark might be onto Jinyoung now, thinking how he’s all over his Twitter like this.

 _Me apparently???_ Mark replies back just as quick. Jinyoung can’t help but smile to himself as an image of Mark scrunching his nose at his phone forms in his mind. Under their thread, there are a few other replies, mostly comments on how Mark is _so handsome_ , and a few other _thirst tweets_ from a couple of girls. Jinyoung scoffs at them before sending a new response.

 

_Living up to being mainstream, I see_

 

   Immediately, Mark sends in his retort, an emoji face rolling its eyes and a _Living up to being a mean hipster, I see_ , earning a grin from Jinyoung, which he hides behind a hand and an unconvincing cough. Looking around the room to see if anyone noticed this out-of-character display, he only saw everyone else packing up their things. He didn’t even realize that the professor had left a question the class can mull over until the next session and was already sending everyone off to their next classes.

   Jinyoung hurriedly shoves his binder and pen, both unused, into his bag and springs from his seat, ready to bound to his next class. Brisk walking to the classroom just across the hall, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. The phone almost slipped through his grip as he read his new notification: a private message from Mark that read, _so does this mean you no longer wanna punch my face in?_ Not even a second later, and a second message comes in: _Also, have you resorted to stalking me?_ Jinyoung inwardly curses. His earlier panic came true, now Mark was really onto him, and thinks he’s a _stalker_.

   Poising his fingers on his keyboard, Jinyoung begins typing an excuse for that. _Well,_ he thinks to himself, _so much for keeping my distance_.

 

&& &&& &&

 

   It was already close to 8PM when The Queers, the new band name Jackson insisted they use for the show on Friday, finished practicing at the local studio a few blocks downtown. Mark and Bambam ganged up on their bandmate, insisting they not use it, but Jackson had been adamant in branding them a queercore band. Because as Jackson puts it, the three of them were in fact gay one way or another, and that they played queer music. But Bambam promptly argued that they only played loud hardcore music with heavy guitars, with Jackson providing the guttural upbeat vocals and occasional screaming into the microphone—that, and taking his top off when he got way into it, which Bambam thinks happens every single time they were on stage. Other than this usual bickering though, their practice went smoothly, even able to do revisions on the original songs they planned to debut on Friday.

   Jackson and Bambam decided to go grab a late dinner before heading back to their dorm. They didn’t have any other plans set after practice since Jackson was still reeling from drinking heavily the night before, and his body—a product of years of healthy diets, rigorous exercise, and Chinese traditional medicine—was craving some proper rest and nutrition. Bambam lugged his cymbals and double pedals so all he wanted was to dump them on their dorm room floor, and then maybe curse at Jackson again for forgetting to pick his car up at the repair shop.

   Mark, on the other hand, declined their offers of food, saying he needed to drop by Nick’s, one of the show’s organizers, house to hang out. Mark’s two bandmates rolled their eyes, knowing it was just code for smoking pot and eating cheese pizza and whatever microwaveables Nick had at his place. But at least Mark was making friends outside their circle.

   The blonde decided it was better to walk to Nick’s apartment complex, since it was only a couple of blocks away from the studio, not minding the weight of the guitar strapped to his back. The ten minutes or so of walking gave him enough time to check his messages and reply to one new acquaintance, or at least Mark thinks they’ve leveled up from being each other’s haters on social media. Him and Jinyoung have been privately messaging each other the whole day; Mark would be lying if he said he understood that day’s Art Studies lecture, since all he did for an hour and thirty minutes during class was make sure his professor couldn’t see the light from his phone or his thumbs endlessly flying through his smartphone screen. During his lunch with Bambam though, Mark had a more difficult time hiding his preoccupation, which earned him a couple of eyebrow wiggles from the younger student.

   “Who ya busy texting there, huh?” Bambam had asked while trying to peer over Mark’s shoulder. “Is that maybe, I don’t know, a certain Jinyoung?”

   Good thing Mark was smart enough not to confirm his suspicions, because Bambam—and by extension Jackson, because the younger teen would certainly babble to the other—will never make Mark live this down. It wasn’t that Mark liked Jinyoung the way his bandmate insinuated; it was more of being embarrassed for being caught finally swallowing his hatred and actually talking like decent human beings with one another.

 _Not that we’ve actually talked decently_ , Mark thought bitterly. Sure, they have been exchanging messages the whole day, taking full advantage of the free wifi access on campus. While Mark’s only reprieve away from messaging was during his afternoon program at the radio station and their three-hour band practice tonight, him and Jinyoung have only really talked in the same passive-aggressive manner, only this time the _friendly_ insults directly aimed at each other. It was more like playful banter, and Mark could admit Jinyoung was a pretty funny guy for his dry humor and sarcasm, something the blonde found perhaps a reflection of the other’s intelligence and wittiness. They haven’t exchanged much personal information—heck, Mark doesn’t even know what Jinyoung looks like—only finding out that Jinyoung was in the same college as him, therefore at the mixer last night, and that as a Literature student, only cemented Jinyoung’s personality as hipster snob extraordinaire.

 _I don’t even listen to half the bands you mentioned_ , Mark had replied earlier that day. It often ruffled his feathers when people lumped him into a certain category just because he listened to the more pop version of alternative rock. He’s been mocked for subscribing to a certain style or for subscribing to a certain lifestyle. Sometimes he couldn’t believe people still did that; he thought the whole debate between mainstream and indie cultural products was already so passé. It was, however, a good thing Jinyoung was at least amusing with his teasing this time though, and Mark couldn’t help but laugh at his phone sometimes.

 _Are you sure? Or maybe you don’t know the band names cuz their songs all sound the same so might as well come from the same band right_ , Jinyoung had taunted, to which Mark just scoffed.

_Is it your personal mission to stereotype me?_

   The three dots appeared on Mark’s screen and it seemed like an eternity to him before Jinyoung sent a _Maybe but why would I waste my energy on you_ , followed by another message that read, _I don’t even know who you are_.

_And yet you’ve been here for weeks, subtweeting like u know me and now ur talking to me_

_Pot calling the kettle black_ , Jinyoung had countered.

   It does take two to tango, but Mark won’t tell Jinyoung he checks the other’s account religiously. _As the saying goes_ , he typed first. _Keep your enemies close_ , he finally replied before sliding his phone back into his pocket just in time Jackson yelled “What’s up, gays?” from across the street. Mark ignores the smirk Bambam threw his way before the two of them crossed the street. Thank goodness all of them had laser focus during practice to even mention anything remotely outside of music, Jackson most especially.

   He continues his light-hearted banter with Jinyoung on the way to his destination, this time around the fact that he plays in a band. As suspected, Jinyoung makes fun of him and his band’s genre, which Mark replied to with his usual quips about Jinyoung being an old man with a forgettable and washed up music taste. Mark only stopped replying when Nick finally opened his front door for him.

   “Hey man!” Nick greets enthusiastically, reaching out a hand to clasp Mark on the shoulder while his other hand held a pizza slice. Apparently, Nick and his girlfriend Hyorin, who has her feet propped up on the coffee table, had started without him. Mark nods at her and at Jae and Andy, two of Nick’s friends, who are fighting over the speaker. Seated beside Hyorin and currently puffing out smoke from a rolled-up joint is someone Mark doesn’t know. He has a beanie on with the seams rolled up, exposing the undercut on the side of his head. He looks pretty intimidating in his dark clothes and with the comfortable way he’s slumped.

   “Mark, how was practice?” Hyorin pats the small space between her and the stranger. Mark just shrugs before saying it went well. “This is my friend JB, by the way,” she says, pointing to the other guy. “He sometimes makes beats for me.”

   Said guy—JB—filters out the rest of the smoke before reaching out a hand for Mark to shake. “Hey, so you play?” He nods at the guitar that Mark is placing against against the wall.

   “Yeah, my band’s playing for a show organized by Nick and his crew.”

   Hyorin interjects. “JB also plays in a band.”

   “Uh huh,” JB bobs his head up and down. “We’re playing on Friday, too.”

   JB offers the blunt to Mark, which he refuses, opting to get a slice of pizza first because he was ravenous. He pulls on the cheese before turning to his new acquaintance and asking more about the kind of music his band plays. JB perks up at the question and goes into a passionate, despite a bit lethargic, account of their musical influences. Having his interest piqued, Mark listens intently, nodding his head in agreement and mumbling his awe around the cheese he kept pulling off his slice.

   “I really like jazz though,” JB said while he taps a short rudiment of light roll patterns on his knees. “We mostly play guitar-driven emo, kinda more hardcore than the pop punk offshoot.”

   Mark understood what JB was referring to, since all the scene kids he grew up with suddenly turned into clean-shaven and tattooed guys who resurfaced during this new wave of emo. Mark shares that he knew someone trained in jazz drumming, but plays in a heavy metal band. “So are you the more nineties, early 2000s emo, or like, the ‘gazey’,” he gestured in air quotes, “emo revival?”

   JB scrunches his forehead, the marijuana is slowly affecting his response time. “Yeah, more like the latter, I guess? Yugyeom, one of our guitarists, likes to tune his pedal effects to noise.”

   “That’s cool! We’re more on the punkier, angstier side but we sometimes cover some more popular songs.”

   “What, like Panic! At the Disco or something?” JB teases.

   Mark huffs at that, suddenly reminded of Jinyoung’s constant teasing. “Dude, I don’t even listen to Panic.” They both laugh before Mark continues, “But we’ve played some Saosin and Jimmy Eat World before even if Jackson’s voice isn’t high-pitched enough for them.”

   At the mention of Jackson’s name, JB’s head snaps to Mark as he reaches over to grip the other’s wrist, the tip of the blunt grazing Mark’s skin.

   “Jackson? Your bandmate is Jackson?”

   Confused, Mark scoots back a bit so he could properly look at JB. “Yeah, how do you know him—no wait, dumb question, because _everyone_ knows Jackson.”

   “I met him last night…” JB trails off. It seemed like he was being vague on purpose. 

   Mark was starting to get a weird feeling about this. “Really? We hauled his drunk ass last night though ‘cause he was being inappropriate again.”

   JB blushes at that, causing him to pause before taking a long drag. After blowing smoke in Mark’s face, he suddenly says softly, so soft Mark almost didn’t hear it. “I was the one being inappropriate with him last night, so…”

   And then it all clicked in Mark’s mind even if it took him a second or two for the gears in his head to lock into place. “Wait…,” he begins, “Is JB short for Jaebum?”

   “The one and only.”

   JB even had the gall to put his arms out in an _what can you do_ pose.

   “You two were disgustingly embarrassing last night,” Mark looks partly scandalized, partly amused. “Jackson was shirtless when we got there!” But the other student didn’t look guilty at all, and Mark could tell, even under the dim yellow lighting of Nick’s living room, JB, _or rather Jaebum_ , had a smug look on his face.

   “Wait,” Mark slid his phone out of his pocket, “I need to tell Jackson about this,” he says as he points the camera at him and Jaebum. After taking a selfie, Mark opens his Twitter messages and looks for Jackson’s account so he could send the picture. He ignores some of his new messages, including the one sent in by Jinyoung a little over fifteen minutes ago.

   Jaebum, now poised right next to the blonde’s side, was watching everything Mark did, hence catching a glimpse of a familiar circular profile picture and Twitter username in the other’s inbox, so he points that out to him. “Hey, is that Jinyoung?”

   “Yeah, you know this snob?” Mark says absent-mindedly, finally finding Jackson’s box right underneath Jinyoung’s.

   For the second time that night, Jaebum grips Mark’s wrist, halting the other’s movement. “Hold up,” he begins. “Are you _the_ Mark?”

   “Huh?”

  “You’re that DJ who plays all those emo and screamo songs that Jinyoung hates!” A wide-eyed JB says. This kind of expression looked foreign on his handsome face, as it betrayed the cool aura he exuded. Mark asked how he knew all about that when Jaebum reclined back onto the cushions before coolly saying, “Jinyoung’s my roommate.”

   “Oh.”

   “And he’s also my bandmate.”

   “ _Oh_ ,” Mark said. “Oh my god, so that means—?”

   All Jaebum could do was put the half-burnt blunt in between Mark’s fingers and exclaim an elongated “yep” before encouraging the other to take a much-needed hit.

 

&& &&& &&

 

   “So that means he’ll be here tonight?” Jinyoung says as he pushes open the door to the bar. He avoided a couple who came barraging their way, cautious to not let the neck of his guitar get caught in anything or anyone. “He’ll be playing tonight? _With us_?” His question almost got drowned out by the heavy bass and the vocalist screaming onstage. Him and Jaebum just arrived at the bar where their band, Mayday, would be playing alongside Mark’s band apparently. It was a local show organized by some people they knew around town, who made themed gigs happen every once in a while. Tonight, however, they didn’t have a certain theme in mind and just wanted to organize a show for everyone to enjoy. And yet, Jaebum didn’t inform him of one valuable information until five minutes ago.

   The bar was moderately packed, with a couple of bands already having played beforehand. Jinyoung knew a majority of the people in the crowd and by the sidelines, since the local scene was quite tightknit, so everyone knew everyone more or less.

   “It slipped my mind, okay?” Jaebum retaliates. He waved at Youngjae and Yugyeom who were already taking their instruments and pedal boards from nylon bags. They were up next, and Jaebum was going to use this chance to busy himself preparing in order to avoid Jinyoung’s accusations. However, he’s already getting the feeling that the younger won’t let him get away easily, and he’s proven correct once Jinyoung corners him, whining about feeling betrayed.

   “But you didn’t forget to mention how you two bonded over a weed and Jackson, though?” It also apparently slipped Mark’s mind to mention to Jinyoung that they’ll be at the same event tonight, even if the other didn’t forget messaging him about meeting Jaebum the other day. Their inboxes have remained oddly quiet in the last two days, with Mark only answering questions, but never initiating anything more. Their playful bantering was still there, but spaced out through the day that Jinyoung was actually able to focus on his classes. He was also able to ask Mark about Jackson after Jaebum mentioned meeting the blonde the other night. But Jinyoung surmises Mark’s sudden avoidance has something to do with meeting his bandmate.

   “Did you say shit about me to Mark?” He accuses Jaebum. Youngjae and Yugyeom both look at his sudden outburst.

   “Why are you even pressed about this, Jinyoung?” And that seemed to shut the younger one up, because he didn’t have an answer to it himself. “Do you actually like blondie?”

   “What!” Jinyoung exclaimed, dumbfounded. He had to admit, Mark was someone totally different from what he had conjured in his mind weeks before, and the thought of him had plagued Jinyoung’s mind more than he’s willing to admit. But saying he liked the other as Jaebum—and if he could surmise by Youngjae’s side-eyed glances and Yugyeom’s incredulous looks at him every time the other person’s name was brought up—had insinuated was plain absurd. So all Jinyoung could do at that moment was deny it and promptly walk away.

   “Whatever, I’m gonna get a beer.” He says as he flees from the side of the stage, ignoring Jaebum’s eye roll and calls to make it quick in the process.

  The gulp Jinyoung takes from the subzero beer helps him momentarily forget what Jaebum just said. The good thing about Jinyoung is that he knows when to compartmentalize. His friends think it’s a bad trait sometimes, but in scenarios like this, where he’s expected to give it his best onstage, he’d happily be myopic about some things. Besides, Jaebum’s nonchalant approach to life pays off as he drops the subject quickly as they exchange high-fives with the last band that just played. Jinyoung also assumes the beer he brought over for the older student helped as a peace offering. He pushes the thought of Mark to the back of his mind, and silently applauds himself for not even getting the slightest urge to search the crowd for that familiar mop of blonde hair.

   Soon enough, they’re up the stage, plugging cords into various outlets and tuning their instruments. It only takes them a little over five minutes to get ready and before they know it, Yugyeom is speaking into the microphone, telling them they’re Mayday and are about to start their five-song set with a cover of You Blew It!’s “Match and Tinder.” Yugyeom dives right into its opening riff, followed by Jaebum’s aggressive drumming for the song. Jinyoung will always be amazed at how Yugyeom, the reserved youngest in their group could muster enough energy to scream the lyrics into a microphone as he was doing now. The four of them easily get into the swing of things, and in no time finishes the song.

   Jinyoung speaks into the microphone, informing their next song is still a cover, but this time of Pity Sex’s “What Might Soothe You?” as an homage to the band’s hiatus. They play a heavier rendition of it, given they have no female vocals to match the original’s, and they truly make it their own, especially partnered with Jinyoung’s turn to sing, his cold voice stable and clear despite the swinging movements he does with his guitar. Not everyone in the crowd knows the songs, but they do a good enough job to get an ample amount of head nods to the beat and some few jumping around.

   Mayday gets a round of applause after the two-song barrage, and Yugyeom takes the microphone again, this time to introduce the band members one by one before going into their last three songs, all original compositions. Youngjae sings for the third song, while the last two are both instrumentals, both experimentations of the kind of sound they wanted to grow into.

   The band finishes off on a high, their instrumentals building up into something anthemic that the bar is abuzz with adrenaline and a circle of guys has started pushing and pulling each other to Jaebum’s impressive drum beats. Youngjae’s bass creates a wall of low sound, and both Yugyeom and Jinyoung finish their set with their strumming cutting through the dissonance. When the music dies down, all of Mayday’s members bow to the crowd and pack their things one by one, vacating the stage for Hyorin, the host for the night, who thanks them and stalls the crowd for the next band.

   After Jinyoung plucks his own gear from the stage, he goes straight to the back of the bar and orders himself a bottle of water. Youngjae and Yugyeom are right behind him, both sweaty and basking in the remaining vestiges of adrenaline. He was about to ask where Jaebum went but a quick sweep of the crowd gives him an answer: to the left of the stage and right under one of the bright lights is Jaebum, his hand on Jackson’s bicep, and a smarmy grin on his face. Jinyoung couldn’t hear what the two of them were talking about, but judging by their body language, he could already guess what’s happening between the two. Jackson runs a hand up Jaebum’s arm, while he twirled the cord of his microphone with the other. After a few more seconds of flirting, Jinyoung could see Jackson say his goodbye with a wink to his bandmate and proceeds to go up the stage.

   That’s the only time that Jinyoung realizes. If Jackson was already here, then Mark was not quite far behind. And as Jinyoung slowly trailed his eyes across the people on the stage, he finally spots the guy in question.

   If Youngjae heard an uncharacteristically loud gasp coming from his dazed bandmate, he doesn’t mention it. But Jinyoung doesn’t hide his awe as his gaze lands on Mark. There on the stage, awaiting Jackson’s command, is Mark in a leather jacket and a slick updo. For the night, he’s traded his oversized hoodies for a more badass punk look, and his usual long fringe is pushed back, showcasing the buzzed sides of his head.

   Someone from his side—Yugyeom—hands him another bottle of subzero beer and he takes a rather large gulp, suddenly feeling parched all over again.

   “You’re staring,” Youngjae nudges him on the side.

   “And drooling,” Jaebum suddenly appears behind him, and that snaps Jinyoung from his reverie long enough to cast a glare at his bandmates.

   Jaebum only laughs before he claps the younger on the back. “No judgment here. Mark’s pretty hot.”

   “I agree,” Yugyeom nods his head.

   Jinyoung can’t deny though, there was something different about Mark tonight—and all because of an outfit change. The blonde guitarist looked confident onstage, and soon Jinyoung realizes that it’s not only because of his looks, but of the way Mark exudes a kind of freedom when he’s playing.

   Jackson starts their four-song set by screaming something about their tentative name because they’re a queercore band, to which the drummer—Jinyoung hasn’t learned his name yet, but recognizes him as the skinny teenager from the other night—yells a loud “No, we’re not!” Mark, to their side, only laughs before he readies himself to strum the opening note as Jackson grips the mic stand and belts out the first line.

   Everyone in the middle of the bar sings along, since it’s a classic song covered by many young bands. Jackson points toward the back of the bar when he sings _boys like you are a dime a_ dozen and winks to presumably Jaebum when he sings _you’re a touch overrated, you’re a lush and I hate it._ Jinyoung remembers the words and starts humming along, even mumbling _maybe I should hate you for this, never really ever did get that far_ during the chorus.

   Mark’s band is electric to watch, Jinyoung decides. He is surprised at how technically good they are, as there’s heart and knowledge with how the three of them had divided instrumentation. Jackson is also a good multitasker and performer, balancing how he plays his bass guitar while simultaneously flirting with the audience. _And with JB_ , Jinyoung mentally notes.

   Jinyoung orders a beer for every song The Queers played because he suddenly felt like letting loose, getting caught up in the band’s energy. They’re up to their last song, which is another original composition. Jackson’s long stripped himself of his tank top and is now standing in the middle of the stage, whispering something to Mark in all his sweaty glory. Mark, on the other hand, doesn’t look like a hair is even out of place. His face is shiny with sweat, but he’s glowing under the lights, and his canines glint whenever he opens his mouth to speak or smile. Jinyoung takes another big gulp when the song starts picking up and Mark momentarily lets go of his guitar to grip the mic and scream into it, the veins on his neck straining against the fair skin. Behind them, the drummer pulls off a few rolls, and everything seems out of place and chaotic, the clashing of instruments and Jackson’s grating vocals exhilarating the crowd.

   The Queers finish with a flourish, and everyone in the bar is buzzing with energy, including a loose-limbed and pliant Jinyoung. He notices that Jaebum had immediately bounded back to the stage to intercept a sweaty Jackson who’s wrestling a clean shirt back on. To a dimly lit corner in front, Jinyoung could make out Mark’s silhouette, helping their drummer pack their gear up. Upon finishing, Mark makes his way through the crowd, easily getting lost in the throng of bodies.

   It’s only when Jinyoung asks the bartender for another beer that he hears a familiar low voice beside him.

   “Hey Mike, can I get a beer?”

   “Sure, wait a sec,” Mike, the bartender ducks to retrieve a bottle from the chest freezer. “Great set, Mark,” he says as he slides the beer across the counter to the awaiting palm of the blonde.

   Jinyoung first sees the hem of his leather jacket before his gaze goes up to Mark’s face. Sensing eyes on him, Mark glances back at Jinyoung, tipping his beer bottle in a silent cheers.

   “Uh,” Jinyoung blurts out. “Hi, that was great,” he points to the stage with the mouth of his own beer bottle.

   Mark grins at him after taking a sip of his liquor. “Thanks, man! Though I made a few mistakes during one of our own songs.”

   “I didn’t notice,” Jinyoung continues. “Y-you did okay, Mark.”

   The blonde’s eyes widens at the mention of his name. Jinyoung inwardly curses, because now he looked like a creep for knowing his name all of a sudden. But Mark recovers fast, and asks instead, “Oh, I don’t think I know you though, uh--?”

   “Oh, um,” Jinyoung wipes his hand on his jeans before reaching it out for a handshake. “Jinyoung.”

   Once again Mark’s eyes widens, but this time in recognition. He hastily puts his beer down back on the counter and reaches for Jinyoung’s hand, shaking it gingerly, uncertain how to process finally meeting the boy that has been plaguing his mind and taking up an unnecessary amount of time out of his days.

   “Oh my god,” was all Mark was capable of saying before he pulls his hand away and reaches back for his beer. In his nervousness, Mark gulps almost a half of the bottle’s contents in one go. Recovering, he continues, “JB mentioned you’d be here tonight.”

   “And you forgot to mention _you’d be here_ tonight,” Jinyoung jumps right in, crossing his arms across his chest.

   Mark thinks Jinyoung’s pout looked adorable, and that the guy in front of him didn’t fit the image he had in his mind. He thought a burly, bearded, flannel shirt-wearing hipster had been taunting his music choices, not some flawless-skinned guy with styled hair and plump cheeks, and a penchant for wearing an oversized sweater over straight-cut dad jeans. Now that Mark thinks about it, Jinyoung does look the part of a nerdy Literature major. But any other thoughts Mark had about what Jinyoung would look like paled compared to who was standing in front of him right now.

   “You’re not what I was expecting,” Mark says just as much out loud. He inwardly curses himself when he realizes the other heard that.

   Jinyoung gets rid of the pout and instead raises an eyebrow at the other. “Oh?” He challenges. “And what did you expect?”

   “Well, for starters, you’re not an old man,” Mark teases.

   “Something I’ve corrected a hundred times.”

   Mark raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, but you were mean to me most of the time so how would I have known?”

   Jinyoung snorts at that. “I wasn’t being mean, I was speaking the truth!”

  “About what? You kept arguing that your brand of emo was way superior!”

  “Because it is!”

   Mark giggles at the way Jinyoung’s pitch just went a couple levels higher. “Are we really going back to this again? You just told me my band did great.”

   “Suddenly I can’t hear you,” Jinyoung counters and Mark slaps him on the arm out of reflex. They both laugh afterwards and fall into playful conversation, the same rhythm of back-and-forths they exchanged online manifesting naturally. As the empty beer bottles on the bar countertop accumulate, the space between the two diminishes, until they’re only inches apart, speaking directly into each other’s ear, trying not to get drowned out by the heavy basslines and explosive drums from the bands that have played and gone all night.

   Neither Mark or Jinyoung would admit to the amount of flirting littered in their conversations, opting to view them as mere banter, _clearly_ something familiar to their dynamic. But to the outsider—and that includes both their bandmates whom have long disappeared, either gone home or gotten lost in the crowd, except maybe for Jaebum and Jackson who are probably finally getting freaky with each other—the way they’re wrapped in their own little world amidst a jampacked and busy bar in the heart of the town, it looked more like a scene from a movie, and there was no denying the magnetism between the two of them.

   Mark’s hand has found its way to Jinyoung’s bicep a tad too many times, while Jinyoung’s had his left arm trapped between Mark’s waist and the counter, his fingers loosely gripping at the hem of the blonde’s leather jacket. Fueled by alcohol, there’s both courage and fire in their gazes, and there’s only one small push needed for them to explode into something much hotter, more passionate.

   “I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you play,” Mark manages to say. He feels like his tongue has expanded inside his mouth, making it difficult to form words. He wishes he had a roll of weed with him right now, just something to smoke to balance the drunkenness. Maybe he could ask Nick if he had some on him, but it’s proving difficult to get away from the warmth of Jinyoung’s side pressed to him.

   Jinyoung’s been staring at Mark’s lips and teeth as the other spoke, so it took him a few more seconds to come up with a response. He waves his free hand vaguely to convey that it didn’t matter. “You can always watch me some other time,” he finally says.

  “Park Jinyoung, was that a date invite?” Mark teases at first but soon drops it as he settles to whine instead, bumping his head against Jinyoung’s. “You got to see me play tonight though.”

   Jinyoung takes a moment to think. His reflexes are slow now that he’s had too much alcohol in his system. “Then why don’t you just make it up to me or something?”

   Mark pauses. He blinks up to the ceiling and instantly regrets it as his vision gets wobbly. “What do you have in mind?”

   The blonde brings his gaze back to Jinyoung, pupils blown wide and glistening with _something_. Jinyoung bites his lips and stares back. He’s partly uncertain of what he’s about to ask, but does so anyway as the drunken, courageous side of him wins out without a question. He lets go of his lip and licks it, before clicking his tongue. He lets Mark scoot closer to him, so close that he could feel the other’s warm breath on his face.

   “You wanna get out of here?” Jinyoung finally asks. He knows— _the both know_ —they’ll probably regret this decision, but at that very moment, Jinyoung has thrown subtlety or care out the window. And neither has Mark, judging by the way his body stiffens and his grip on Jinyoung’s arm tightens at the suggestion.

   Mark follows the minute movements of Jinyoung’s mouth before he breathes out an “okay,” and the next thing both of them knew, they’re fishing out cash from their pockets and desperately stumbling out the bar door into the night.

   The cool midnight breeze might sober the both of them a bit, but they remain as inebriated in their attraction to halt falling into Jinyoung’s bed, tangled in a mess of limbs and even messier kisses, and engaging in whatever regretful decisions that will surely cross over any of the remaining boundaries they previously set between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roughly 7,500 words for this chapter only, so I'm cutting it here and leaving the ~mature~ content for the next chapter. Also, JackBum is happening (or, has already happened) in this fic, but I won't be including them in the tags, bcuz an IRL ahgase friend is a big hoe for them and tracks the tag. 
> 
> Songs mentioned or hinted at in this chapter:  
> ["Goodbye"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e0RWnzd_b_k) by toe (an example of math rock)  
> ["Never Meant"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_NfnXdXpjL0) by American Football  
> ["Seven Years"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zJALPNdJsHU) by Saosin  
> ["The Middle"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oKsxPW6i3pM) by Jimmy Eat World  
> [Match & Tinder](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=giJzv-mubEc) by You Blew It!  
> ["What Might Soothe You?"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hDPxuhWLhsg) by Pity Sex  
> ["You're So Last Summer"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CQE7gu4D1R4) by Taking Back Sunday  
> Also, I mentioned Panic! At the Disco a couple of times, but I don't listen to them (or a lot of pop punk or emo pop) so I can't truly recommend anything, heh.
> 
> (Visuals for this chapter: Mark in a [leather jacket](https://twitter.com/peachfortheking/status/1012382238523080704) & Jinyoung as a[ shoegaze dad, truly one of his best looks](https://twitter.com/tab940922/status/1007492149842071557))


End file.
